Rubber Band - The HemiHelix Effect Ep 1

Chapter 4

With Tibor’s cremation set for eleven o’clock in the morning Lukas leaves his house an hour earlier. He doesn't like to be late, especially not for Tibor. At the Chorlton crossroads he enters his bank and pays in Tibor’s cheque. Feeling lighter he walks along Barlow Moor Road, resists the McDonald’s breakfast and turns left into Chorlton Park to cut across to the back of the cemetery.

TV catering and lighting vans are parked on Nell lane, Lukas steps over cables and past cones to get to the cemetery’s back gate. With time on his hands, he watches some of the filming which is taking place in the newer part of graveyard. He recognises some of the actors drinking coffee by the catering van. Though he never watches soaps, detests them with a vengeance, he realises that he is on the set of yet another funeral in one of the oldest British soaps, Coronation Street. The average British soap body count these days is close to matching that of Fairhaven Care Home, the former conceived by a writer’s muse, the latter frighteningly real.
Lukas spots a hearse pulling into the crematorium’s drive from Barlow Moor Road. He enters the cemetery and makes his way towards the small group congregated by the crematorium’s double doors.

On closer inspection, the group he assumed to be Tibor’s mourners have just exited the building and belong to the ceremony that took place before Tibor’s. When the coffin is finally carried inside it is only himself and the priest following it into the building. Lukas sits in one of the pews and turns his head to check for latecomers. What about the care home staff? Surely they would send a representative. He observes a solitary young man with long hair sitting in the last pew.
Just as the doors are closing O’Daniel steps through the gap. He shuffles towards Lukas and sits down next to him.
“Disgraceful! They sent Mylo.” The old man points his thumb behind him, shakes his head and elbows Lukas in the side.

The priest recites a short homily and a hidden organ plays a hymn. Pre-recorded, Lukas suspects. He is relieved that the priest does not insist they sing. Nevertheless O’Daniel joins in with a fine baritone, all three verses. Then the curtains close around the coffin and Tibor’s body is lowered into the flames below.

“Who is Mylo?” Lukas asks as they pass Chorlton High School.
O’Daniel had insisted he would walk back to Fairhaven and Lukas had insisted he would accompany him.
“Mylo is matron’s nephew. He’s not quite with it, you know. Works as a night porter with us. He’s a nice kid, but, you know...”
“Hm.” Says Lukas. “You said yesterday that Tibor almost lost his faith?”
“It's the book.” O’Daniel tugs at Lukas’s sleeve. “It does tings to you.”
“Tell me more, Mick.”
“I'll tell you everyting you want to know. And some tings you don't. The book is cursed, I tink, but in a good way.”

Now that he is in possession of a copy of the book himself, and has already been spooked by it once, he is eager to hear more. The old man says the book spoke to him. Apparently if you stared at the empty pages long enough you would begin to see words and would feel compelled to write them down. O’Daniel’s book is almost full.
“What happens when you run out of empty pages?” Lukas wants to know.
“I don't know.” O’Daniel says and smiles up at him.
“What about the bit in the middle? The bit about inviting your Guardian Angel into your life?” Lukas smiles back.
“He helps you see tings. Or she? I haven't seen him yet.”
“But you did invite him?”
“Yes, I did. In my prayers.”

Back at Fairhaven Lukas accompanies O’Daniel to his room. The old man suddenly seems exhausted.
“Wait.” O’Daniel rummages in his bedside cabinet. “Take it. It's Tibor’s.” The old man passes Lukas a well used copy of the book.
Lukas resists the temptation to open it immediately. “Get some rest, Mick. Let me know if you need anything or if you observe anything else fishy!” Lukas laughs.
The old man looks at him, sternly. “It's not funny, you know. People are dead.”
“I'm sorry, you are right.” Lukas says. “You look after yourself.”
“I will, boy. I will. Don't let them fool you.”
“Who?” Says Lukas, but the old man has already closed the door.

“I'd just like to know what's going on.” Lukas leans back in the chair and puts his right ankle onto his left knee. He cocks his head and looks at the matron.
“I am kind of busy here Mr Novak, but what exactly would you like to know?” Matron adjusts her glasses.
Lukas leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees. “Ten people are dead, in ten weeks. Quite a few residents are spooked and worried for their safety.”
“How many residents have you spoken to? One, I guess? O’Daniel?” Her smirk is lopsided.
Lukas leans back. “Tibor can no longer speak for himself.”
“We are a care home. Most of our residents are old and frail. It doesn't point to a conspiracy if someone dies.”
“Weekly?”
“Sometimes weekly, yes. There are certain times of the year when people are more prone to dying. After Christmas, for example, at the start of the New Year. It's the end of January now, Mr Novak.”
Lukas runs his hand over his face. “What about this new form of therapy or is it a new religion?”
“You sound very cynical, indeed.” Matron frowns. “It is a new holistic approach that some care homes are testing. It's driven by the Church.”
“Does it have a name?”
“A name?”
“Yes, like ’Gestalt’, or ’Ergo Therapy’ or some other New Age name.” Lukas says.
“We don't like using labels, Mr Novak.”
“So that means I can't read up about it online to check it out. By the way, is there such a thing as The Catholic Church Of Great Britain website?”
Matron laughs. “I really don't know, Mr Novak. I am not very familiar with the internet.”
Lukas smiles. “What does she tell them? They are supposed to invite some Guardian Angel into their lives, for Christ’s sake.”
“You should take the Lord’s name in vain, just as much as you shouldn't discard the existence of Angels.”
“Isn't the Church quite clear on the topic the ’though shouldst not have any other gods beside me, et cetera’? Does that not include inviting spirits into one’s realm? Or demons, as some extremists would say?”
“Mr Novak, I am not a priest, but if you would like to speak to a member of the clergy that visits Fairhaven for guidance, then I would be happy to arrange it.”
Lukas laughs. “That won't be necessary at this point, but being a Catholic myself I must admit I am confused.”
The matron smiles. “That is understandable. The Church has become much more liberal in recent years, going with the times.”
“To the extend of employing a soothsayer? A few hundred years ago this would have ended at the stake.”
“Miss Eda is a highly qualifies counsellor and therapist. It is in addition to her qualifications that she has the gift. It's like having perfect pitch. You can't do much about it.”
“And the residents respond to her favourably? O’Daniel was implying people were scared.”
“O'Daniel is a stirrer. People are responding very favourably. In the old days the Church ruled with an iron fist and religion instilled a fear of punishment and eternal damnation. Today it encourages practitioners like Miss Eda; her counsel instils insight and forgiveness, a healing process that starts from within and is different for each patient. It is highly effective.”
“So effective that the patients slip away silently overnight.”
“Mr Novak, I really must be getting on with my work. It is commendable of you that you take such an interest in our patients’ spiritual wellbeing. I assure you we look after them to the highest standard.”
Lukas gets up. “It's just, well, you read it again and again, don't you? The very young, the old and the frail being taken advantage off.”
“Yes, unfortunately that's true. There are scrupulous people out there. But I must insist that you drop your suspicious attitude towards Fairhaven. It is so easy to jump to conclusions these days. Promise me you rethink your attitude towards us.” She stretches out her hand towards him.
He takes and shakes it, but finds it hard to look her in the eye.

On his way back home he pauses briefly in front of Eda’s premises, only because her Citroen is not parked outside and he won't be spotted. He looks at the house, which is a bit tatty and very purple.
He sighs and turns to cross Manchester Road when he thinks he spots movement behind the curtains. ’The Observer becoming the Observed’ he thinks, suddenly transported back to his brief dabble with the Hippie culture, when he delved deeply into Krishnamurti. Why this quote should pop into his head now is beyond him. He tuts, turns towards The Globe and crosses the road.

What had possessed him to think that he should sign up for a course of sessions with her? Had he even experienced slight infatuation? A purple house and a 2CV to match, it would be chick pea curries and herbal tea next. He laughs at himself as he takes the top of his pint. Then he pulls out Tibor’s book.

Five minutes later he returns to the pub with his own copy, which he has picked up from his house round the corner along with some mail, leaving his pint almost untouched on the bar. Tibor’s book seems different to his, thicker, richer, it's cover more velvety and embossed differently. Now he can't make his mind up what to open first, one of the books or the ominous looking solicitor’s letter, the second in two days.

Lukas takes a gulp of lager and opens the envelope.
Business before pleasure.
Apparently she wants full disclosure.
Lukas starts to sweat profusely.
He drinks down the rest of his beer in one, orders another and a double Jaegermeister. Then he pulls out his second phone, the one with the cheap international SIM card, scrolls through the call list which consists of two numbers and dials the shorter one of the two.

“You have two choices; no, wait, strictly speaking you have three.”
“What's the third?” Lukas grumps.
“That’s the one you're not going to take, go along with the full disclosure.”
Lukas tuts. “Yes, obviously, what about the other two?”
“Threaten her. Not such a good idea, but depends on her solicitor.”
“Yes, so what's the only feasible option?”
“Make her an offer she can't refuse.”
“Bribe her to forsake the disclosure.”
“Basically, yes.”
“Thanks, Juergen, pragmatic as ever.”
“I aim to please. Lukas.”
“What do you mean?”
“The fact you haven't been entirely honest with her in the first place says a lot. Now it is absolutely imperative that she or her legal representation doesn't find any trace. With what's at stake she’d hire a top solicitor that would tear your balls off and bury them far away from your body, along with your house, your brother’s legacy and your childrens’ inheritance. Do you understand what I am saying?”
“Perfectly.”
“Lukas.”
“Yes?”
“Why didn't you never tell her?”
“Because I kind of knew that it wouldn't work out. You know what she’s like with money. She would have demanded a say in matters. Not an option.”
“You shouldn't have married her in the first place.”
“Thanks, Jürgen, now you are stating the bleeding obvious.”

Lukas puts on his readers and opens a note-taking app on his smart phone. He always struggles to type on the phone, but can't be asked to go home and boot up his creaking laptop. Half an hour later he sends the email that will hopefully appease Liz enough to make her withdraw her request for full disclosure.

He hadn't expected her to react so quickly. As always she’s got the wrong end of the stick, accuses him of trying to manipulate the situation for his own gain instead of complying with what her solicitor requests. He calmly reassures her that he neither wants to pull the wool over her eyes, nor does he intent to go against her solicitor’s requests; but he does remind her that he doesn't have to comply with her solicitor’s instructions if he doesn't want to, that he has a choice in the matter. She informs him that if he was this uncooperative the matter would end up in court. He gently reminds her of the cost of a full blown dispute and urges her to resolve the matter privately and amicably; after all, it would only be the solicitors who would benefit financially from the matter going in front of a judge. She laughs and says that this is none of her concern; since he is the uncooperative party it would be him having to pay for the proceedings.

Lukas's head hurts, he has trouble keeping his calm with her, yet he knows that even a hint of sarcasm or criticism in his voice would make her put the phone down. She’d take him to court and fight him all the way, he has absolutely no doubt in his mind; just to make a point and come out in top in their seemingly endless, and, in his mind, pointless power struggle. For her it is all about winning, it doesn't seem to matter what the fight is about; the smallest misunderstanding ends up on an even par with much more important decisions, and the inevitable disagreements, like buying a car or finding a new mortgage provider.

He reasons calmly with her, but at the point of him hoping that she is taking in some of what he is saying, she suddenly goes quiet. Quiet with her is not good.
Silence equals suspicion.
And he is right.
“Where have you got the money from? How can you offer me that much money?”
He tries to reply but she talks over the top of him, becoming more and more agitated. “You're hiding something, Lukas, I can tell! You can't lie to me, God knows you've tried, but I can tell every time. It's written right on your stubborn Polish forehead!”
He wants to ask her what lying has to do with being Polish, or half-Polish, anyway, but he bites his tongue and tries once more to appease her. This time she asks him to repeat what he has been saying, as she seems to be running out of superlatives to describe his inadequacy.
He explains calmly that his parents have lent him the money. That he was embarrassed to ask them, but for the sake of peace and an amicable settlement his father agreed to help out, temporarily, dismayed at the breakup of their marriage.
Liz is silent at the other end of the line.
Lukas knows he’s touched a nerve. She has never been keen to let him maintain contact with his family. In fact, Piotr and Ilena have seen their grandchildren only once, when they visited London on the back of another publishing deal Lukas's father had landed in the UK. Now they were too frail to make the journey. Liz had never set foot in Lukas's native country.
“What do you say?” He asks calmly.
“I don't believe you.”
He rolls his eyes, lost for words.
“No, I won't believe you, do you hear? Can't you stand on your own two feet for once? How can you sink so low to run back to daddy and ask for money because you fucked up your marriage?”
“What do you want, woman? Do you want me to lose my home and cripple myself with alimony payments to the point of bankruptcy?”
“Why don't you try w-o-r-k, like the rest of us?” She sneers back and puts the phone down.
He roars in frustration. Heads turn to look and smile at him.
He orders more beer, more Jaegermeister.
She wants to humiliate him.
That's the bottom line.
Wants to break him and watch him crawling back to her with his tail between his legs so she can reject him again when he is at his weakest.
He necks his shot and shakes his head.
She wouldn't ring Piotr, surely she wouldn't.
She wouldn't sink so low.